


its own kind of victory

by Sasskarian



Series: Home is Where You Are [3]
Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Companionable Snark, Daddy Issues, F/M, Falling In Love, Father-Daughter Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Survivor Guilt, and SAM grows as a person, and jaal is still a giant sweetheart who i hurt way too much, and lexi confronts some feelings about drack, and vetra is so clearly the mom friend, dad!drack shows up in full force, in which sara 'i'm a hot mess' ryder finally starts to deal with her dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10637682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sasskarian/pseuds/Sasskarian
Summary: Spoilers for Jaal's Loyalty Mission: Friend or Foe---“I should take a shower,” he mumbled, as the same time as Sara said, “Would you like to stay?”Both of them broke off, staring at the other, and she laughed nervously. That feeling was back, the one from the tech lab, fragility and strength and affection turned fierce and bright tumbling over one other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to go ahead and trigger warn this piece. The following work contains frank mention of self-hatred, self-harm via impact, mental illness (including PTSD and survivor's guilt) and suicide. If you are suffering or have suffered self-wellness issues from these things, read cautiously. There is a happy ending, but it takes a while to get there. 
> 
> I'd meant for this to be a light-hearted piece where I got to write about Jaal's family, but this took hold while I ran through Havarl again and wouldn't let me go.

**2819 | The Landing at Daar Pelaav | Shortly before Takeoff |**

*******

Ryder strode up the Tempest’s ramp before it had finished closing and ripped her helmet off the back of her hardsuit. Liam and Vetra trailed behind her, too exhausted to even banter. Jaal followed, the fourth and last member of the ground team, his _rofjinn_ dripping rainwater on the floor.

Everyone in the cargo bay jumped when Ryder hurled the helmet into the wall with biotic-powered force, a furious scowl on her face; the faceplate shattered, spraying the deck with omniplast. Gil, who normally would have ripped into someone for damaging the ship, ducked his head and fixed his eyes on the fuses he was working on.

“Hey, kid,” Drack braved the uncomfortable silence that followed. “You okay?”

“What do you think?” Sara snarled, beginning to strip off the rest of her armor. “Someone make sure PeeBee is done playing with the fucking plants! I want to see stars inside the hour.” She left armor where it fell, stepping over the discarded pieces, and stormed up the ramp out of the cargo bay.

The doors hissed shut behind her and everyone jumped at yet another loud clang: Drack had one huge, heavily muscled arm holding Jaal against the wall. To his credit, the Angara didn’t make a sound or try and pull his weapon, even when Drack leaned in close and let him get a good look at some very sharp Krogan teeth.

“What happened to my girl, lover boy?” he growled in Jaal’s face.

“Oh, leave him alone, Drack,” Vetra sighed, torn between wanting to get out of her own wet armor and leaving Ryder’s in a sodden mess on the floor; years spent picking up after Sid made her fingers itch at leaving a mess laying around. “Jaal didn’t do anything.”

“I’ve never seen Ryder that upset,” Drack countered, lifting Jaal a few inches higher; his feet thumped once against the wall as they left the floor but he still didn’t struggle. “Not even talking about her dad makes her that upset.”

_Which dad is that, I wonder? The human or the Krogan?_

Vetra rolled her eyes and opened her comm. “Lexi, you might want to get down here. Drack’s being very… Krogan again.” There was a sigh in response, but Vetra knew the woman could handle the stubborn men so she bent down and began stacking Ryder’s armor into her arms.

“It is my fault, in a way,” Jaal replied hoarsely, his eyes filling with unshed tears. “My contact—I thought Ryder and I could get a lead on Akksul. Start handling the Roekaar.”

“And?”

Vetra listened to Drack growl as she lined up Ryder’s armor across the nearest work surface and stripped her own, leaving her undersuit damp but bearable. In any other scenario where she stripped in the cargo hold, either Gil or PeeBee (who had slunk in when Ryder yelled her name) would have playfully given her a whistle; the absence of the family-like teasing spoke more of grief than even Jaal’s choked sob.

Jaal leaned his forehead on Drack’s arm as best he could. Whatever reply he made was swallowed up by the pneumatic hiss of the bay door and Lexi’s barked, “Drop him!” When Drack didn’t immediately comply, Lexi marched right up to him and shoved his arm down with that tell-tale spark of a biotic corona; Jaal slid to the floor, his legs crumpled underneath him. As he rubbed his neck, Lexi got right in Drack’s face, backing the old man down with ease.

Her voice was too quiet for anyone to hear but Vetra would have bet her last box of Blast-Ohs on it being some sort of inventive threat. _The doc, surprisingly, has a backbone._

Drack grunted, anger still written across his face, but he extended a hand to Jaal and hauled him up with a muttered, “Sorry.”

As Lexi turned to Jaal and began tilting his head this way and that to see if there was any neck damage, her cool medical detachment back in place, Liam came out of his quarters in yesterday’s civvies and two Initiative-stamped towels thrown over his shoulder. His hair still glinted, but the rest of him looked dry enough.

“She died,” he said simply, tossing a towel to Vetra. She acknowledged him with a nod and began drying off the two sets of armor. “Jaal’s contact, I mean.”

With a hand on Lexi’s shoulder, Jaal accepted the second towel Liam held and talked in short, rasping bursts around drying.

“Thaldyr was taken to a kett slave encampment, with Akksul. They have remained close over the years since,” he said, rubbing the towel under his eyes. “When we arrived near her home, the kett were ambushing.”

“Sure, she hates the kett, but I’m still not hearing what would have put my Ryder in that state,” Drack rumbled menacingly. Although he made no obvious move, the glare T’Perro leveled in his direction made him growl and cross his arms.

 _Defensive posture._ The mercenary in Vetra was surprised. _He doesn’t like making her upset with him. That’s… interesting._

“She killed herself before we could wipe out the kett,” Liam said, his voice a hollow mockery of itself, drawing her back to the present. “We’d barely fired a shot before she did. Died a few minutes after we hacked the lock she’d put on the door.”

“I do not know whether to be proud that my friend had the courage to ensure the kett would never take her again, or to be furious with her for giving up so easily,” Jaal whispered. He’d seemed fine in Thaldyr’s home but now…

He curled up and pressed his hands between his knees to keep them from shaking, a low keening rising from his throat. Drack rubbed the back of his hump uneasily, before he thumped himself down on the floor next to the Angara with a groan.

“I’m gettin’ too old for this shit,” he griped before knocking Jaal on the shoulder with a massive, semi-friendly fist.

Vetra hid a smile as Liam took Jaal’s other side, the three of them sitting in solidarity as Drack opened a compartment on his thigh plate and took out a flask.

* * *

“Pathfinder, I must ask you not to damage yourself again,” SAM said. That he didn’t bother using their private channel but left his admonishment open for whoever might hear it was a sign of his own anger. The longer the two of them spent entwined-- deeper than Alec's connection, SAM had confirmed-- the more the AI seemed to develop emotions.

“Bite me, SAM.” Sara shook her stinging hand, ignoring the rapidly-bruising knuckles.

“That is anatomically impossible, Pathfinder, as I am part of you and also noncorporeal.”

“No need to get your wires in a snit,” she snorted, dropping exhaustedly on her bed. The AI-- who had definitely been taking on more human qualities, the longer he spent living in her head-- stayed silent for a long moment.

Ryder’s hand began to throb and swell.

“Sara,” SAM flickered in life over his router on her desk, “why did Thaldyr take her own life?”

Sara choked on a bitter laugh and flopped backwards, sprawling out on her bed. _If anyone had told me I was going to have to explain PTSD to an AI…_

“Sometimes people can experience things that scar them forever,” she whispered, laying her arm over her eyes. She felt the swell of emotions try to close her throat and took a moment to swallow past them. “Trauma like that can leave scars on the brain. And on the soul.”

Sara bit down on the heel of her hand to stop another sob, seeing too much behind her closed eyes. _Mist and an orange light bobbing towards her, slow and pained. Breath leaving her lungs in a rush and never returning. That choice. That choice and so much guilt. Guilt and pain. Guilt. Why me? Pain. Why now? Guiltandpainwhymeguiltandpainwhynowguil--_

“Sara?”

She jerked, wincing when she tasted copper and iron in her mouth; when she looked, there was a half-moon of imprints and the deepest portion was seeping blood into the fine lines of her palm.

“Lexi’s gonna kill me,” she muttered, feeling the cold numbness that came with damaged nerves spread down the hand she’d punched the wall with. “Maybe she’ll get used to it. Dad always said I took after him. Guess that means his temper, too.”

“I did try to warn you,” SAM noted, his voice much more gentle.

A few hours ago, she might have smiled, or at least tried to. The muscles of her face felt wooden, and stiff, like when she was a girl and her mother tried to use a beauty masque on her. The clay had hardened in the air, cracking every time her face twitched, flaking off well before the right time. They had laughed, foreheads pressed together and smearing half-dry masque all around.

Sara didn’t feel like laughing now.

“Yeah, you did,” she said. “Anyway. It’s-- there’s a whole slew of mental problems that can come from trauma. Lexi has an entire library of psychological material if you want more in-depth information. All the disorders practically make alphabet soup. And they can make it difficult to… keep going.”

Today, Sara had found out that Angara bleed a deep, unsettling blue. Today, she’d seen desperation and strength in equal measure. “When you’re afraid enough, or in enough pain, the idea of not existing is preferable to suffering.”

Today, she realized that some dark part of her mind had considered that as a last-ditch escape, and she wasn’t sure if she were grateful that it had been exposed, or resentful that she now knew she could never put her crew-- her _family_ \-- through what Jaal was feeling.

She’d have to find a better way of working through the ghosts in her head.

SAM went silent. Sara examined her hand and waited; she’d gotten her mother’s hands, long and delicate-looking. Thin fingers, good for tinkering in the guts of machines. _Or designing cutting-edge biotic implants._ There were blue spots on each of her knuckles and prodding them brought a burning pain that made her hiss.

“I do not…” SAM trailed off, causing her to look at his router. “I do not relish the idea of not existing, Sara. It creates an odd sensation in my processing matrix. I believe it may be analogous to… fear.”

 _Great,_ Sara thought, humorlessly. _I’ve given my AI an existential crisis. Welcome to humanity, SAM._

* * *

“You’ve got to look out for her, doc.”

Lexi gritted her teeth and counted to ten before continuing to operate on the complicated shoulder cybernetics. _Wouldn’t do to cause the ornery bastard any more pain than necessary,_ she thought, finding the fifth frayed cable. _No matter how many times he tries to stop my heart with worry._

“I have to look out for _you_ ,” she replied, struggling for an even voice; she’d already apologized for having to use force to move his arm. Though she knew the damage she was repairing had probably been there since their last mission, and wasn't her fault, she felt guilty. “Kesh asked me and Ryder to watch over you. At your age and in your condition, you should not be deadlifting nice young men as tall as you are with your _weak arm_.”

Drack harrumped and turned his face away from her, staring out towards Ryder’s door.

“Gotta keep the boy on his toes,” he muttered. “Seems too innocent. Doubt he’s ever had to deal with someone like Ryder.”

“You mean someone like you,” she countered, not without warmth. "You don't want him to hurt her." Watching Drack and Ryder develop a friendship that had quickly turned parental had put an unsteady flutter in Lexi’s heart; it was another tie that bound the crew into a family. _And, frankly, it’s cute as hell._

“She’s just a kid, doc,” Drack sighed, his other fist clenching. “I’ve had _boots_ older than she is.”

Lexi tsked under her breath, unknotting two thick cables. Drack was far too old for what he’d signed up. She knew it and Kesh knew it. And Ryder seemed to suspect it, given the shadows in her eyes when she rotated Drack into the ground team, as if she expected him to keel over in the middle of a bloodrage. She couldn’t leave him out or she risked offending him, but she struggled to give him as much time as possible between shifts.

“Have you told her yet?” Lexi asked, replacing the synthiskin and suturing it with steady hands. Drack grunted and she came around to his face, looking at the forearm where Jaal’s weight had rested. Sure enough, there was an unhealthy orange glow under some stretched synthiskin. She went to brace his arm against the small table to peel it back and he caught her hand gently.

She was startled by the sheer _smallness_ of her hand in his. Drack had a larger than life presence, even without the grisly armor he wore, but it was something else to realize that it wasn’t mere personality taking up all that space in a room. He was also a large, and very ancient, krogan warrior, with all that entailed.

For a moment, she was mesmerized by the contrast of her blue skin against the rough, dark pad of his palm. _I’m not even three hundred, I should not be falling in love._

“Doc,” he rumbled, yellow eyes glinting up at her. He didn’t have to say anything more.

“You already love her,” Lexi murmured, bringing her other hand to rest along his jaw. Her thumb stroked his scales and he pressed briefly against her hand; their moments were few and stolen and frustratingly undefined.

“She’s a tough kid,” Drack said non-committally; the tremor in his voice betrayed his composure. “To lose her entire family. To be here, doing a job that wasn’t hers, and doing it as well as Alec could, if not better? She’s pretty damn special.”

His eyes pinned her where she stood and when he next spoke, it was with the softest voice she’d ever heard from him.

“Lex, she’s suffering. And she’s hiding it from the rest of us. No one can do what she does and not get banged up on the inside.” Drack swiped at his face before holding his arm out for her to begin operating on. “She might have the heart of a krogan, but she’s hurting, and it’s killing me.”

* * *

 _Pathfinder, someone is requesting entrance to your quarters._ SAM’s voice was soft on their private channel.

“Thanks, SAM,” she murmured, wiping at her eyes. It was futile-- her eyes were redder than her father’s N7 armor stripe, and her face felt both puffy and tight. In the last hour, since they’d returned to the Tempest, she’d cried so much that even her eyebrows ached and felt hollow.

When the door slides open, she gets an eyeful of Liam and Jaal, arm over shoulder and around waist. Sara had a brief moment to appreciate the sheer _strength_ needed to support most of an Angara’s bulky, solid weight-- close to a hundred kilograms, if not a little more, and with a _very_ nice flex of the shoulders-- before concern spurred her to move and help take some of the burden.

“What happened?” she demanded, not liking the dull glaze in Jaal’s eyes. His reactions seem to be slowed to an alarming degree.

“Drack gave him something to fuzz his nerves after what we saw on Havarl,” Liam said, puffing slightly as the three of them made a slow, jerky path to the bed. Sara tapped on a little biotic power, the slightest sip, to help steady them. “I don’t know what it was but it was bright purple and smelled like death.”

“Ryncol,” she sighed, lips twitching as they tried to ease him down. “This’ll be interesting.”

“This hit him hard,” Kosta agreed, extricating himself from the sloppy but strong grasp. “But he kept asking to see you. I think he had to make sure you were okay.”

The two of them looked at the Angara listing heavily to starboard in silence for a moment.

"Best of luck, little duck,” Liam gave her a brief but genuine grin, a hearty clap on the shoulder, and then backed out of the room. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Sara muttered, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. _All my friends are assholes._ She took a deep breath and stepped closer to the edge of the bed, unsurprised when Jaal’s hands darted out for hers.

“Ryder,” he murmured. “Sara?”

His skin seemed flushed; the dark stripe down his nose and lips didn’t stand out as much as normal, and there were two wide swaths of deep purple running high on his cheeks. The heat pouring off of him startled her for a moment-- his hands gripped her waist and she could all but feel them searing through her sweats.

“I’m here,” she breathed, her hand brushing across the top of his head; he leaned into her touch with a sound between a purr and a sob. “I’m here, Jaal.”

“My Sara.” Jaal pulled her closer, arms wrapping around her hips. He whispered something in Shelesh, too low for the translator to pick up, and leaned his face into the soft curve of her belly. She heard Thaldyr’s name somewhere in the muttering before she felt the fabric of her shirt bunch under his grip and he began to cry. His shoulders shook in great, heaving sobs, the way a child cries-- all emotion, raw and desperate, clinging to whatever comfort was near.

Sara curled over him, heart in her throat. She’d thought she was all cried out.

She was wrong.

* * *

**Two and a half days earlier | Havarl | Landing Pad near Daar Pelaav**

*******

_“This might be the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. Is the whole planet like this?” Ryder whispered, delight written across her face. Jaal smiled, feeling some unnamed worry settle in his heart. She turned to him, eyes wide with wonderment. “I could spend forever just looking at it.”_

_“Look at all these plants,” PeeBee murmured. “The vault must be fully operational here.” She touched the leaf of a nearby fern, gasping when the soft bioluminous glow brightened, almost washing the color out of her face._

_Liam whooped as he stepped off the Tempest with the biggest grin Jaal had personally ever seen on a human. “Now_ this _is a planet!” he laughed, almost disbelieving._

_“I thought Aya was beautiful, but this…” Vetra shouldered her large assault rifle, even going so far as to shut down her visor to better appreciate the view. “This blows it away.”_

_Jaal smiled, but kept a firm grip on his weapon. It gratified him, a bit, to see their reactions to his home planet. “It is beautiful. But the wilds can also be deadly.” He’d often thought that Havarl was very much like the angara themselves: deceptively calm until provoked._

_“Peebs, you coming with us?” Sara checked her ammunition clips, then turned to the ground crew with an excited bounce. She was clearly itching to get boots in the jungle, Jaal thought. Her face shone with that burning curiosity he’d come to associate with both Sara the woman and Sara the Pathfinder._

_“Actually, I think I’m going to stay here with the Tempest and do some analysis on these plants,” Peebee replied, absorbed in the fern she was kneeling by. “Something’s not quite right.”_

* * *

_“I can’t believe the water_ glows _,” Ryder said as they splashed through a creek, using the scope of her gun to scout ahead. Jaal had finally heard from his contact, after over a day exploring the research station, and she was ecstatic to see more of the jungle. “I didn’t think this planet could get any more fantastical.”_

_“Only when it pools on the ground,” Jaal laughed, glancing at her. “The soil of Havarl is composed of centuries of bioluminescent plants blooming, living, and dying. Everything is part of the cycle.”_

_The two of them had taken point, Jaal slightly ahead of her, looking for signs of Roekaar. They’d dispatched the first patrol that had seen them, and Jaal hoped that an alarm hadn’t been raised. But Akksul’s men were dangerous, and skilled; they would stumble across each other again for certain._

_“That’s amazing and gorgeous, and I’m sure there’s some sort of life lesson in there but let’s be practical here. Is this rain ever going to let up?” Vetra grumbled, flicking her mandibles irritably. “Did we arrive during monsoon season?”_

_Jaal grinned at her. “Yes, actually.”_

_“Great,” she rolled her eyes and tilted her shoulders down. “Next trip, I’m staying on the ship.”_

_Fascinated, the rest of the team looked at the steady stream of water that spilled from around her cowl._

_“Turians really aren’t made for wet climates, are you?” Liam asked, laughing too hard to dodge the well-deserved smack from Vetra. “Ow!”_

_Ryder and Jaal shared an amused look, his hand seeking hers for a brief moment. “Watch your step,” he murmured, brushing her bangs behind her ear._

_She’d taken her helmet off some time ago, and the insistent rain dripped from her ponytail-- and down her face, despite her claims of being able to see fine. Droplets clung to the fine hair around her eyes-- she’d called them lashes, last week in the tech lab-- and the way they reflected the soft, glowing light around them captivated him._

I want to kiss her again, _he thought, his heart giving an insistent bump. As if she could hear his thoughts, Ryder’s cheeks darkened and her lips parted slightly._ I never want to stop kissing her. _Jaal almost reached for her, the desire to find the nearest tree to lean her against and kiss her breathless almost overtaking him. He wanted--_ needed _\-- to see the light of Havarl shining on her skin, to taste the sweetness of her mouth with the rain pouring around them._

_“The navigational point Jaal provided is approximately half a kilometer ahead of you,” SAM interrupted, using the public access comms. “There are indications of a battle. And kett.”_

_The AI’s voice was a cold dose of reality, stripping the magic of Sara surrounded by his home from him. Her expression hardened and turned grim; he watched as she shimmered, the faint blue light of a biotic corona flickering into existence around her._

_“Quit bickering, you two,” she called, splashing through another puddle. “There’s work to be done.”_

* * *

**2819 | Orbiting Havarl | 0300 Nexus Standard Time |**

*******

When Sara returned to consciousness, it wasn’t to SAM’s dry voice alerting her to the day’s work, the sound of a krogan’s laugh booming down the hallway, or Kallo’s relentless morning cheer. It also wasn’t the seductive scent of coffee luring her to wake, the loud snore of an exhausted angara as she tried not to sail them over another cliff, or the soft chirp-purr of the pyjack a Nexus professor had manipulated her into taking.

It was a deep, echoing ache in her head and the faintest touch of a finger on her cheek.

When she opened her eyes, she found Jaal’s gaze wandering over her face. His thumb didn’t change pace once he noticed she was awake, but kept moving in a slow, steady track: around her chin, along the edge of her jaw, up to her cheekbone.

“Hey, you,” she whispered, catching his hand with her own. In response, Jaal sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. His current flared into life, wrapping sizzling hands around her nerves and singing down to her toes. With the combination of her brain-- getting better at interpreting the electricity-- and SAM, she was able to separate out his communications from the images that swam in front of her eyes.

_Her face, hopeful, smiling in the glow of Havarl’s night. Thaldyr, pale and shaky, too thin, as he and some distant cousins helped her move into a prefabricated house at the edge of the forest. Akksul, his face proud and strong, arrogant. Deep blue blood on his hands and shame for the lightness he’d felt not ten minutes prior. They should have been faster. A silent thought that perhaps Drack should have been--_

“Wait, Drack did _what_?” She jerked back, breaking the contact. Jaal blinked as Sara threw off the sheet she’d pulled over them during the night and tried to roll out of bed; he laid a hand on her hip. “Lemme go, Jaal, I have a krogan to dismember.”

“Stay?” His voice was raspy, deeper than she’d ever heard. There was a dryness to it, not the wry snark she’d come to expect and enjoy, but dryness like a parched desert, barren and devoid of all but the basest of life. Angara, according to Jaal, may be open with their emotions, but pain and illness were things that were seemingly taboo to show. The knowledge that he was asking her not just to stay, but to witness his pain, crashed over her. That kind of trust couldn't have been easy to offer.

Reluctantly, Sara let him tug her back into bed and settle her into the crook of his arm, like he’d done it a thousand times.

 _It is 0300, Pathfinder,_ SAM used their channel to tell her. _I will clear your schedule for the day._ She found herself grateful for that. There was work to do, and there would still be work until all of the Initiative races were settled. Until the Archon was taken care of, and the Angara were safe. Until _they_ were safe. But there was a heaviness to her limbs, a refusal to work in sync, that told her she wasn’t getting anything done today.

Maybe if her damn head would stop pounding. As far as she was concerned, it could roll off and leave her in peace any time.

“I am-- I find myself ashamed,” Jaal said, his voice swallowed up by the darkness of the room; her heart ached when he closed his eyes and sighed. The hand on her hip spasmed, gripping her tightly for a moment, before relaxing.

“You have _nothing_ to be ashamed of,” Sara whispered fiercely, laying her hand on his arm. “If anyone should be ashamed, it’s me. I threw a tantrum like a kid.”

They spent a few moments listening to the quiet hum of the ship around them, together, before he spoke again.

“In Thaldyr’s home, the reality of what she’d done hadn’t set in yet. And I still don’t know whether I should feel angry, or bereft, or proud.” Jaal rolled to his back, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Now I have to speak to the Moshae. She is the only other one who can contact Akksul. I had hoped to spare her.”

Sara frowned, also rolling to her back and tucking her head against his shoulder. The thought of talking to the Moshae again was both exhilarating and rather terrifying. The old woman had so much influence, and so much knowledge-- knowledge that tickled at the edges of Sara’s questing mind-- but… well, it was clear that the Moshae was less than impressed by her being Pathfinder.

 _And he’s doing this for me,_ she thought, her eyes prickling. _He’s taking all this pain for me, because I wanted to try and reason with a madman who hates aliens._

All she said was, “Will it be difficult on her?”

“No, but she has… a blind spot where Akksul is concerned.” Jaal hummed, his hand coming up to tangle in her hair as he changed the subject. “Whatever was in that flask, I never want to taste it again.”

Sara chuckled, then yawned. “It’s ryncol. A liquor from the Milky Way. Krogan seem to love the stuff.”

“Rynnncollll,” Jaal tried the word out, curling himself around her. His arm settled over her waist and she slid an ankle between his, feeling content. “A pleasant-sounding name for a very unpleasant morning after.”

* * *

The next time Sara opened her eyes, she could feel that a couple of hours had passed. Her swollen hand was stiff, and the arm attached to it was currently trapped under the shoulder of a snoring Angara. She smiled and ran the tip of her finger down his nose, grin turning sly when he snorted awake.

“Hey,” she said, propping herself up on an elbow. Jaal blinked sleepily at her, a half-smile curving his lips.

“Did I sleep again?” he murmured, twining some of her hair around his fingers. She let him do as he pleased with it; he seemed fascinated by hair and it wasn't like he could make more of a mess of it than sleeping with it wet had.

Sara smiled. “We’re developing a habit of this, you know. Falling asleep talking.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” he breathed, his hand moving from her hair to her cheek; her eyes closed a little at the tiny spark that whispered _warmth_ and _comfort_ against her skin.

“Not for me,” she teased, “but if it keeps happening, Drack might declare for my honor. He thinks he’s being sneaky about it, but that man couldn’t be more of a father if he ran a daycare.”

“I… don't know what you just said, but it involved the words Drack and father,” Jaal chuckled, “so I get the idea.”

With a pop and a satisfied groan, he stretched and gently untangled himself from her limbs. Too tired to protest, she watched him stand and stretch again, the muscles of his back moving delightfully under the clothes he’d been dumped in her bed wearing. He caught her gaze and the tops of his cheeks flushed dark for a second. _So that’s how an Angara blushes._

“I should take a shower,” he mumbled, as the same time as Sara said, “Would you like to stay?”

Both of them broke off, staring at the other, and she laughed nervously. That feeling was back, the one from the tech lab, fragility and strength and affection turned fierce and bright tumbling over one other.

“I mean,” she stammered, awake enough now to feel embarrassed about their spending a night together again, “I should see Lexi at some point, but I did just download all those movies for Liam. I’m sure we could find something to watch. If you… wanted...”

Sara’s heart stuttered.

Watching Jaal’s smile form was like watching the sun crest over the horizon of a new planet, she thought dizzily. It lit his face from within, easing the last of the shadows and stealing her breath away in a worrying rush. The realization that her interest had already blown into _much more_ swept through her, bringing first warmth and then fear.

_Oh my God._

“I would like that very much… _taoshay._ ” he said softly, gathering the _rofjinn_ he’d apparently pulled off sometime in the night.

“Great!” She forced a smile, wincing when she pulled her arm from under the crumpled pillow he’d stolen. “So, you take your shower and I’ll see if Lexi is available.”

As he turned out of the door, Sara dropped her voice and asked SAM, "Remind me what _taoshay_  means, SAM?"

"I believe it roughly translates to 'beloved,'" he replied. "A definite term of endearment."

"...well, shit."

* * *

“I am in trouble,” Sara called, stepping into the med bay. “Lexi, I’m in _so much_ troub-- oh.” She froze, mouth agape, as Lexi jerked back from Drack’s arms; she couldn't see precisely what was going on but there was some hasty lab coat buttoning.

“Ryder!”

“Kid, you have the worst timing," Drack swore.

“Looks like I’m not the only one having a revelation this morning,” Sara said, fighting back a mad giggle. Drack rumbled a laugh like falling stones and stood, pausing on his way out the door to rub his knuckles over her head. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Lexi sputtered, slapping her omni-tool’s band onto her wrist. “Mr. Nakmor and I were having a-- a discussion. A friendly one.”

_Very friendly, apparently._

Unimpressed, Sara cocked her hip against the door frame and crossed her arms. She could hear the sounds of the shower down the hall, and the enticing but faint smell of Jaal’s soap of the week-- a joking designation Kallo had given him that had stuck-- was almost distracting enough to pull her attention from watching the asari doctor struggle for composure.

Almost.

“See, this is why you’re losing so much money to Gil on poker nights. You’re a _terrible_ liar.”

“Did you need something, _Pathfinder_?” Lexi demanded, trying to hide the smile still curling her lips. “Or are you here to mock me? Because I could remind you of that old human saying about stones and glass houses.”

Wordlessly, Sara held out her swollen hand; Lexi hissed in sympathy when she saw the mottled bruising. She turned and poked through the drawers at her desk, coming up with a thin roll of bandage and two injections. _Lexi and her shots._  Rolling her eyes, Sara allowed herself to be guided to one of the tables, wincing as the doctor held her wrist and scanned.

“Well, there’s nothing broken, luckily,” she murmured, setting one of the shots aside. “But you do have some extensive bone bruising, and you’ve flattened a few nerves. This is something to take the swelling down.” She hummed as she emptied the other syringe into Sara’s hand, ignoring the yelp of pain.

Sara sat in silence as Lexi worked and talked with SAM, only interrupting to ask, “Wait, what’s electrogenesis subroutine thre-- ow!”

Lexi smiled with a hint of slyness.

“I’ve been doing research on Angaran bioelectrogenesis,” she said, satisfied. “I wondered how Jaal healed so quickly, so I’ve been running simulations to see if stimulating another species’ natural electrical impulses could be used in a similar fashion. Asari and humans generate moderate amounts, so SAM and I developed some trial subroutines.”

“You’re using me as a guinea pig?” Sara hissed, shaking out her stinging hand.

“Not quite,” SAM replied. “Doctor T’Perro has been quite successful in using this treatment on both Specialist Kosta and Doctor Anwar.”

“Consider it your punishment for losing your temper again,” Lexi continued, wrapping the hand in the gauze; Sara was annoyed to see that it already looked much improved. “I did tell you to stop getting into reckless fights. That now includes with the Tempest.”

The doctor drew her chair over and perched on it, her annoyance at Sara’s injury replaced by professional interest and a hint of smugness.

“Now. What’s this about being in trouble?” Lexi’s smirk softened. “Would it happen to do with a Mr. Ama Darav?”

Sara groaned, dragging her hands over her face. “Tann is going to kill me. He’s going to straight up _murder_ me and name Cora Pathfinder, you watch.”

* * *

**2819 | Pathfinder Quarters | 0830 | Orbiting Havarl**

*******

Jaal was sitting on the couch when she came back. Sara swallowed nervously and wiped her damp palms on her sweats. _I’ve got this,_ she told herself. _Lexi told me not to worry and not to force anything. See where things take us._

Easier said than done.

 _Since you had issued an invitation prior to visiting med bay, I allowed him back in,_ SAM told her.

“Okay, SAM,” Sara called, settling beside Jaal. “Bring up that list of vids.”

He brought her bandaged hand up, carefully examining it. She could feel a question buzzing along his skin. She tilted her head at him and smiled. _Maybe he's nervous, too._

“It’s a long story,” she warned.

“SAM sent a ship-wide message that today was to be a rest day, per you and Lexi,” he countered. "We have time."

She hummed under her breath, trying to decide where to begin. The new knowledge still shook in her bones, but it was only fair that—if things were going the way Lexi seemed to think they were—he have some warning about her baggage.

“My dad was an N7 operative, back home,” she began softly, threading her fingers through his. “One of the first. N7s are a rare breed; being considered N2 is accomplished, let alone making it to the top. They're high risk, high reward specialists. The best of the best.”

"Like Heskaarl, for Angara." Jaal brushed his lips over the bandage as she continued; the unconscious gesture of encouragement eased the last of the fear still lingering.

She nodded, remembering the soldier from the Voeld rescue team. “But to be the best, he had to make a lot of really hard choices. A lot of close calls over the years, a lot of-- of tough situations.” She sniffled. “He wasn’t always the best at expressing his frustrations when something went wrong. He joked that Scott and I were opposites. I took after him, and Scott has more of mom than I do. He’s the quiet, patient one and I’m the hothead.”

When Jaal jokingly laid his palm on her head, she laughed; it came out sounding wet and sad.

Sara sighed, feeling the raw edge of the wound she’d tried to keep hidden. “I don’t know why he chose me, Jaal. We weren’t close, even though I tried. Scott tried. It was like we were speaking two different languages, though. He was always just out of reach and when mom died, it was like he stopped being himself. Neither of us could get through to him.”

“You were his child, and you were in danger,” Jaal murmured, pulling her against his side as SAM popped up a small screen on Sara’s omni-tool. “In such a light, past mistakes fade. All the things he meant to say and didn’t—or couldn’t—are wrapped up in the fact that he gave his life for you. Believed in you to shape the Initiative in his stead.”

“Maybe,” she whispered. “SAM’s been showing me stuff, memories. Clips from inside dad’s head. I used to think it was creepy—no offense, SAM.”

“None taken, Pathfinder.”

“But it’s kind of… reassuring now. I have proof he did care. He did love us. It-- I think Scott and I forgot that dad was human, just like us. Flawed and messy and prone to screwing up.”

“We tend to—hm, how do I put this?” Jaal rested his chin on the top of her head. “Even Angara, who have many parental ties, must learn that our parents are not infallible. And sometimes, even though we know this with our minds, our hearts still see them as heroes brighter than the stars.”

Sara nodded. That was exactly how her heart still saw Alec. When Cora talked about him, she heard the hero-worship in her voice. Maybe that was why they hadn’t gotten along for the first couple of weeks. Few people could hold up to being compared to Alec Ryder and not come out looking worse for wear. Sara huffed a laugh, thinking back to some of the stories she heard as a peacekeeper.

_The only person who might have stood a chance of being equal to dad was that N7 Commander everyone was talking about from Elysium. If she even existed._

"Enough moping,” she smiled, turning to look at him. “Do you want to watch giant robots fighting giant lizards, or humans being lovely and stupid from three centuries before we left Earth?”

When he settled his arms loosely around her and breathed, “You pick,” Sara thought that they might get through this after all. There were going to be bumps in the road to finding a home. The crew—and their Pathfinder—were going to hurt and get bruises and scars. They might even lose people, like Thaldyr.

But they kept going. Perseverance was the name of the game in Andromeda. One planet at a time, one day after another. One more chance to spit in the Archon's face. When it came to the kett, sometimes even just the next breath was a victory. A way to say,  _you haven't got me yet. I'm still here and still fighting._

And sometimes, she thought, watching Jaal drink in Lizzie Bennet walk down a country road on Earth like she had all the time in the world, falling in love was its own kind of victory.

**Author's Note:**

> See? That wasn't so bad. I think? Right? 
> 
> Next time, we'll get back to the fluff. 
> 
> I saw this piece of artwork -->http://knowyourmeme.com/photos/807544-mass-effect<\-- and couldn't resist poking a little bit of fun at the impracticality of Turian armor in a wet climate.


End file.
